All Over Again
by Eternity-xxx
Summary: It was the day that Hermione's eldest child would be leaving for Hogwarts on her first day. It was then that she saw a man she hadn't seen for 13 years. And this unleashed a torrent of memories. Hr/D DH and Epilogue compliant.
1. Memories Unlocked

**Memories Unlocked**

Two young children bounded along Platform 9 ¾ alongside the scarlet steam engine that was the Hogwarts Express.

"Come on Hugo," yelled the older of the two, her bushy brown hair and black cloak fanning out behind her as she ran. The small ginger-haired boy puffed along behind his older sister, running as fast as his short legs would carry him.

"Rosie, wait!" Hugo called after her. "You know I'm not as fast as you are."

The eleven-year-old girl simply giggled and ran even faster ahead of her brother, until she became parallel with the end carriage, where she stopped to catch her breath and turned to look for her brother. Hugo Weasley soon caught up to his sister, two years his senior, and stooped down with his hands braced on his knees puffing and panting. Rose rolled her eyes at Hugo's dramatics and looked over his red head to search out their parents.

Hermione walked silently beside her husband whilst trying to keep an eye on their children who were tearing down the platform. She took a sideways glance at the tall red-haired man walking beside her, and couldn't help but roll her eyes as he heeded no attention to their children but was merely looking around himself nodding and waving greetings to many people he didn't even know on a personal level.

With an inward sigh, Hermione turned back to search for Hugo and Rose.

"Mummy, over here!"

Hermione looked up through the steam that had begun to pour from the engine and was now engulfing everyone on the platform, creating an almost dream-like quality, and spotted her two angels next to the last carriage. She gave Ron a nudge and indicated that he should follow her, as she steered the trolley in the direction of her children.

Hermione looked down at her son, still panting from chasing his sister, and then to her first born; her bright, stubborn, intelligent daughter, who resembled Hermione as much in personality as she did in looks. A small smile played on Hermione's lips as she looked at her Rose, all set for her first year in Hogwarts and so eager to get there and begin learning that she had insisted on wearing her school robes since breakfast time, and already had _Hogwarts: A History_ memorised.

Then Hermione's gaze turned to her husband, watching Ron push Rose's trunk into the carriage, and her smile turned into a frown. Things hadn't been too good between them lately. Sure they kept up appearances in public, and even at home for their children's sakes, but Hermione and Ron's marriage was definitely in the middle of a rocky patch.

_A patch the size of the Sahara desert,_ thought Hermione bitterly.

"Where are they?" asked Rose, breaking her mother's reverie. Rose then huffed in an impatient manner, sounding so very like her mother had at that age. She began bobbing around, trying to see through the steam.

Forcing a smile upon her face, Hermione turned to her daughter and said, "I'm sure they will be here any minute, sweetie." And she too turned and squinted through the mist.

_Please get here soon,_ she pleaded in her mind. _I can't stand the silence any more!_

Voices drifted around the misty platform seemingly detached from the bodies to which they belonged. Suddenly Hermione caught a familiar voice nearby and heaved a sigh of relief when the outlines of her best friends and two of their children emerged from the steam.

"Hi," said young Albus Potter approaching Rose, in a relieved voice after searching the whole of the large platform for her. Rose grinned back at him, barely able to contain her excitement.

Hermione gave Harry a swift peck on his cheek, and turned to give Ginny a hug, before ruffling Albus's black hair and tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind his sister, Lily's ear.

"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked, shaking Harry's hand. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you?" he turned to his wife, with a seemingly light-hearted tone, but Hermione alone could detect the hint of accusation. "She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

"No, I didn't," replied Hermione, like a dutiful wife, knowing full well that he _had_ indeed Confunded the poor Muggle. "I had complete faith in you," she added, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

As the men conversed quietly whilst loading Albus's trunk and owl onto the Hogwarts Express, Ginny moved to stand beside her best friend and discreetly gave her hand a quick reassuring squeeze.

"How are things?" she asked quietly, closely studying Hermione's features. Ginny noted how pale and tired she looked, her usually bright inquisitive chocolate brown eyes lacked their sparkle, and her brown hair, that had been tamed into glamorous waves in recent years, was frizzy once more.

Hermione turned to her flame-haired companion with a small, tight-lipped smile. "Fine," she said briskly.

Ginny looked at her disbelievingly; after all she had had her suspicions about the state of the Weasley-Granger marriage for quite some time. Ginny once again gave Hermione's hand a brief squeeze, to let her know that she was there, if the latter needed her.

Hermione squeezed back to let Ginny know that she understood, and nodded a small thank you. Hermione sighed internally, looking at her petite friend with the fiery hair and fiery personality, and hoped to Merlin that Ginny appreciated what she had with Harry and never once took their real love, their true love for granted.

Rose emerged from the carriage of the train behind her Uncle Harry, after carrying her owl cage into the end compartment. Albus clung to his mother's hand tightly, and Hugo and Lily were having an animated discussion about what house they wanted to be sorted into when they finally got to go to Hogwarts.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," interjected Ron, "but no pressure."

Lily and Hugo giggled, Rose's excitement faltered and poor Albus visibly paled.

"He doesn't mean it!" reassured Hermione, crouching down to eye-level with the children, turning to glare at Ron over her shoulder, but he was no longer paying attention.

Catching Harry's eye, Ron gestured at something further down the platform with a nod of his red head. Harry turned, along with Ginny who gasped aloud. Hermione quickly straightened up, smoothing down her dark denim skirt, and turning to see what had caught her family's attention.

Through the steam still issuing in swirls from the engine of the mighty train, a familiar silhouette emerged, causing Hermione's breath to catch in her throat and a feeling that her stomach had filled with lead and consequently sunk into her shoes.

There, roughly 50 yards down the platform stood a man she hadn't seen for nearly 13 years.

His all too familiar white blond hair hung around his handsome porcelain face, standing out in contrast against the dark coat that clad his tall slender frame, buttoned up to his throat.

"Draco," Hermione breathed silently, eyes still transfixed.

Feeling their eyes upon him, Draco Malfoy turned and was somewhat surprised to see who was staring at him. He directed a swift polite nod at Harry and Ginny, choosing to ignore Ron completely. Draco turned his back on them, and then took a sly look back over his shoulder, locking eyes with Hermione.

Hermione was startled and took a sharp intake of breath as her eyes locked onto the cool silver eyes of her one time nemesis. She was rendered unable to look away or even blink, as he held her gaze steady, his look indiscernible. A small flush reddened her cheeks at the intensity of Draco's gaze, until he finally turned away, but still Hermione stared at him.

"So," came Ron's voice, light and breathy, "that's little Scorpius."

Hermione snapped back to reality and shook herself mentally. Turning back she now noticed that Draco was standing with a woman, presumably his wife, and had his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a young boy who greatly resembled him.

"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie," continued Ron. "Thank god you inherited your mother's brains."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, for heaven's sake," she snapped. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!" Hermione's voice held a hint of amusement, though, as this was the closest Ron had come to paying her a compliment for a very long time.

"You're right, sorry," said Ron, before adding, "don't get _too_ friendly with him, though, Rosie. Grandad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood."

Harry and Ginny chuckled, and Hermione smiled a small, almost sad, smile. It wasn't a pleasant thought to think that after everything they had been through nineteen years ago and the rebuilding of society over many years after the War, certain rifts were still being forced upon the next generation.

Glancing at her watch Hermione swept Rose into a tight hug, and kissed her daughter, making her promise to write home at least once a week. Rose hugged her father, younger brother and cousin, before clambering onto the train, her face almost splitting in two from the broadest of grins.

The whistle sounded, to signal for the stragglers to board the train, and there was a flurry of last minute action; doors banging and clanging, parents calling out last minute reminders, and pets being passed to and fro.

Albus jumped into the carriage, looking a lot happier after a brief talk with his father, and Ginny closed the door behind him. A great number of people, both on the train and off, seemed to be craning to get a look at Harry.

"Why are they all _staring?_" demanded Albus, as he and Rose looked around.

"Don't let that worry you," said Ron. "It's me. I'm extremely famous."

Albus, Rose, Hugo and Lily laughed and Hermione clenched her jaw. _You wish, _she thought savagely.

The train began to move, and Harry walked along side it, waving encouragingly to Albus, and then to James, his elder son, who leant out of a window further up the train. Hermione blew a final kiss to Rose before taking hold of Hugo's small hand and preparing to leave for home.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood surrounded by swirly white mist on Platform 9 ¾, as more steam poured from the funnel atop the scarlet engine of the mighty Hogwarts Express, engulfing all the figures jostling about the platform and hiding them from view.

Draco ran a slender hand through his platinum blond hair, brushing it back from his face, and turned his cool silver eyes to the young boy standing before him. A warm smile graced his lips as his eyes took in the boy's appearance.

Scorpius Malfoy was an exact replica of what his father had looked like at eleven years old. Same tall, slender build, same white blond hair, same ice-grey eyes. The only thing that differed was the way Scorpius carried himself. When Draco was a child he walked with his nose in the air and a haughty, aloof expression on his features, but Scorpius had developed a softer, more humane stance, the stance of the fully matured elder Malfoy.

Draco squeezed his son's shoulder, knowing how nervous the young boy was, although he would never admit it aloud. _Just like I never did,_ thought Draco with a wry smirk.

Suddenly a hand entwined itself in Draco's, startling him from his musings. He looked down at his petite, dark-haired wife. He gave her a small smile, before extracting himself from her grasp in order to load their son's trunk and owl cage onto the train carriage. Draco sighed inwardly and gave a small sad shake of his head. Peering back through the billowing steam he could discern several high-up Ministry employees with their families, confirming Draco's suspicions, as Pansy only ever displayed affection in that manner when there were influential people that she wanted to impress.

Scorpius's owl gave an indignant hoot, as its cage was rattled. Draco stared at the bird with an apologetic look and gave it an owl treat from the pocket of his dark coat. He didn't mean to take his frustrations out on the poor defenceless creature, but he couldn't help feeling hurt upon occasion, as it became more and more apparent that his was a marriage of convenience. What saddened him the most however, was that over the years he had genuinely come to love Pansy, maybe he had not fallen _in_ love with her, but he loved her all the same. Although now, it was becoming clear to Draco that the feelings weren't reciprocated, and his wife was becoming more and more distant to him.

After returning to stand beside his family, Draco had the distinct impression of being watched. He turned towards the back end of the train and was startled to see four pairs of eyes on him. His eyes quickly swept the scene before him, taking in the couples and their offspring. He could see a young girl with them, already wearing her Hogwarts robes, and felt a small twinge in his abdomen.

Draco nodded politely in the direction of Potter and his ginger wife, and then, choosing to ignore the Weasel and _his wife_ completely, he turned back to his son. But unable to resist, he slightly turned his head back over his right shoulder to look at her.

And there she was, still staring at him although her companions had adverted their gaze. Hermione Granger. _Weasley!_ Draco bitterly reminded himself. For a moment it felt like the train, the platform and all the people milling around had melted away, and it was just the two of them staring at each other through the mist, like a strange dream.

Draco continued to hold her gaze, losing himself in her warm chocolate eyes, feeling his intestines tie themselves in knots. He kept his face free from emotion, biting back a smirk as he saw a blush creep up Hermione's neck and onto her cheeks.

Finally he could take no more and forced himself to turn around, back into reality, and once again rested his, now clammy, hand on his son's shoulder. Draco inhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind of all the memories attempting to escape from the back of his mind where he had locked them years ago. Releasing the lungful of air with forceful frustration, Draco guided Scorpius gently onto the train, his mind still swimming with images old and new.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into her sitting room. The house was still and quiet; Hugo had gone home with Ginny and Lily to keep the youngest Potter company as it was the first time either had been alone without any siblings to play with. They had all been enjoying some lunch together at Harry and Ginny's house, which was once belonged to Harry's parents and had been rebuilt after the war in Godric's Hollow, when an owl arrived from the Ministry requesting Harry and Ron's assistance in an inter-departmental meeting. That left Hermione to return home alone to the now empty house that she shared with Ron and their children.

Moving from room to room, Hermione quickly busied herself with chores purposely not giving herself a chance to think. She returned books to their shelves, fluffed the cushions and made the children's beds. Then she sorted through the mornings post, organised some paperwork, before collecting the dirty laundry and set about loading it into her Muggle washing machine, pausing for a brief moment as she brought one of Ron's work robes to her nose and smelled a strange perfume. The scent wasn't hers or Ginny's, in fact she didn't recognise it at all. _Must be someone from the office,_ she thought with a shrug. Hermione then cleaned the house from top to bottom, before finally stopping for a break.

After wiping the light wooden kitchen worktop one last time with a cloth, Hermione took a large blue mug from the cupboard next to the sink and, pouring hot water from the tip of her wand, she made herself a cup of tea.

Sitting at the kitchen table with her mug, Hermione pulled the copy of the Daily Profit, which had been delivered that morning, towards her. Picking up a juicy green apple from the fruit basket in the centre of the pine table and taking a bite, she began idly scanning through the pages of the newspaper.

As Hermione finished her apple, she banished the core into the bin using her wand and closed the paper, realising that she could not remember a single article she had read. Folding the paper and placing her now empty mug into the sink Hermione found herself at a complete loss; no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, her mind kept dragging her back to the moment on the platform when her eyes met Draco's for the first time in eleven years.

Practically throwing herself onto the beige settee in the sitting room and hugging a small terracotta coloured cushion to her chest, Hermione gave into the inevitable.

She unleashed the torrent of memories from a hidden corner of her mind that she had long hoped had disappeared. And with that, her mind transported her back thirteen years previous…….


	2. A Break from the Norm

All Over Again A Break from the Norm

_13 years previous_

Hermione released a contented sigh as she stared into the dancing red and orange flames in the fireplace of her quaint little one-bedroom flat. Her eyes travelled up the stone surround and rested upon a line of framed photos that sat upon the mahogany mantelpiece. A proud smile formed on her lips.

The first was an ordinary Muggle photograph of her parents, taken during a family holiday to Paris when Hermione was young. She still missed them very much, but knew that they were content and happy with their lives in Australia; Hermione had gone to visit them after the end of the War but had thoroughly underestimated the strength of her Memory Charm. _Well it was designed to withstand interference from powerful Dark Magic, _she thought with a sad smile.

Beside her parents' picture were several wizarding photos depicting Hermione and her best friends at several stages throughout their lives, all waving and smiling from their frames. There was Hermione with Harry and Ron wearing their Hogwarts uniforms; a picture of them with Ginny that had been taken at a DA meeting in the Room of Requirement; a picture of the Golden Trio taken directly after the end of the War that was taken from the front page of the Daily Prophet; Harry and Ginny on their wedding day; and Hermione and Ron on Christmas day at the Burrow.

It had been eight years since the end of the Second War and Voldemort's death. It took several years to build the wizarding world back up to what it had been during the years of Voldemort's exile. But finally things were good and Hermione was happy.

Her best friends Harry and Ginny had tied the knot a few years back and already had one child, a son named James after Harry's father, and she and Ron were finally on the right track; Hermione grinned at the delicate gold diamond ring sparkling on her left hand; and they were all succeeding in their chosen professions. Harry had already made it to the Head of the Auror Department, Ron was a little slower at climbing the ranks, but was steadily building himself a reputation. Ginny had been a Chaser on the all female Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, and had taken over as manager once she and Harry had started a family.

And Hermione? Well she was fighting for the causes closest to her heart. She had recently been promoted to Assistant Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures. Her opinions on the treatment of House-elves were finally being heard.

Glancing at the clock, Hermione went through to her bedroom to get ready to go out to dinner. Tonight she was having a romantic meal with Ron at her favourite Muggle restaurant.

After a quick shower, Hermione dried her hair with her wand, before applying a generous amount of a de-frizzing potion, and pulling it up into a sophisticated French-roll. Hermione then took some new lingerie from its box, that comprised of lacy black strapless bra, a matching knickers and suspender belt; not her usual choice of undergarments, but then she wanted to make a special effort for her fiancé that night. She then dressed in a slinky black dress that she had bought especially for the occasion earlier that day. It was made from a silky fabric and clung to her womanly curves, resting just above her knee and showing a hint of cleavage between the delicate ribbon straps that were tied with small bows upon her creamy shoulders. Hermione then pulled on sheer stockings, strappy black high heels whose straps were encrusted with sparkling silver gems, and added matching diamond earrings and choker-style necklace. Some subtle make-up and a spritz of perfume later, Hermione studied herself in her floor-length mirror and smiled. _Perfect,_ she thought.

Hermione stowed her wand into her black handbag, grabbed her black shawl and turned on the spot, her mind focused on the dark secluded alleyway behind the restaurant.

A small popping sound echoed through the still dark night, as Hermione Apparated at the back of the restaurant, situated in Muggle London. Silently she slipped out of the alley, entered through the large glass door and approached the M'aitre de.

"May I 'elp you, madam?" asked the man wearing a very smart tuxedo, through a thick French accent.

"Um, Granger-Weasley, table for two. Booked for 8 o'clock."

The waiter looked down at the list in front of him, ticked something off and checked to see if the table was ready. With a click of his fingers he summoned a young waiter.

"Zis is Claude, 'e will be your waiter zis evening," the M'aitre de said, before turning to the young man and handing him two menus. "Show Miss Granger to 'er seat, table twelve, s'il vous plait."

Claude took the menus and bowed to Hermione. "Right this way, m'am."

Hermione was slightly taken aback by the waiter's lack of accent. In fact he sounded like he had grown up just around the corner. After taking her seat, Hermione draped her shawl across the back of her chair and took a sip of water. She glanced at her watch; Ron was now five minutes late.

A further 20 minutes later, just as Hermione was about to give up the wait and leave, Ron came rushing through the restaurant and hurried up to her table.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, giving his fiancée a quick peck on the cheek. "You look great," he added, his eyes sweeping over Hermione from top to toe and back again.

Hermione frowned at him. Sure she appreciated his compliment, after all that _was_ why she'd gone to so much trouble.

"Thanks," she replied with a small forced smile. "New cologne?"

Ron choked on his water and his ears turned pink. "Sorry?"

Hermione smirked at his discomfort. "I asked if you were wearing a new cologne."

"Erm, uh, no. I don't think so," replied Ron, quickly busying himself with his menu. "Why'd you ask?" Ron swallowed hard, immediately regretting asking that question.

"Its nothing," said Hermione dismissively, watching the red head sigh with relief, before adding with a nasty smile, "Only I don't recall you wearing a scent that was so flowery before. Something so _feminine!_"

At this, Ron's face flushed crimson and he loosened his maroon coloured tie. After some inaudible stuttering and mumbling, Hermione felt anger and humiliation begin to bubble in her chest.

"Exactly _why_ are you late, Ronald?" she all but spat at him.

More mumbling followed and as Hermione leaned in to try to decipher what was being said, something caught her eye. She snatched at the collar of Ron's white shirt and eyed it closely. His eyes widened. "Wh-what? What i-is it?"

Hermione flung Ron away from her with a disgusted look upon her otherwise pretty face. She stood so quickly that her chair nearly toppled backwards onto the floor. Snatching her shawl and handbag, Hermione leant in close to Ron's face, so close that she could see each and every freckle. "Cerise pink isn't quite your colour, Ronald." Hermione growled through clenched teeth. "And it certainly isn't mine!" she added, and then proceeded to empty her water over his head before storming out of the restaurant.

Ron sat there in total shock and watched Hermione's retreating figure, with a puzzled expression. Claude, the waiter, quickly swooped forward after hearing the end of the argument, and as he cleared away the used glasses he plucked at his collar and coughed the word _lipstick_.

The penny finally dropped for Ron and he sprinted from his seat in pursuit of Hermione.

Outside he launched himself out of the restaurant's double doors and searched the street for Hermione. Finally, by the light of the orange streetlamp he saw her small figure huddled on a wooden bench on the other side of the road.

"Hermione?" he called out tentatively as he approached her with caution.

She looked up at him with tears escaping from the corners of her hurt-filled eyes. "How could you, Ron?" her voice was cracked with emotion. "How could you?"

Ron ran a shaking hand through his red hair and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I really am!" he pleaded, kneeling on the hard ground in front of the devastated girl. "I don't know how it happened. Please forgive me! I love you."

Hermione snorted. "Well you have a funny way of showing it." Her anger started to return. "How long?"

There was a pause and Ron fidgeted uncomfortably under Hermione's icy glare. "I'm sorry," he muttered again.

Hermione leapt to her feet. "You pig! How could you?"

Ron stood also, towering over Hermione yet feeling inferior. "I really am sorry Hermione. I guess that I just wanted to experience life a bit, before having to settle down." As soon as he had said it, Ron knew he'd blown it.

"Having to settle down?" Hermione repeated. "_Having?_ Well, Ronald, from now on you won't have to feel obliged to _have_ to do anything." She took off her engagement ring and placed it into Ron's hand. "Goodbye, Ronald." And with that she Disapparated.

Knowing that Ron would go to her flat to look for her, and then to Harry and Ginny's, and all the other places that she often visited, Hermione decided to go somewhere different. Somewhere that she could have fun and forget about the hurt and humiliation that she now felt.

Hermione was once again standing in the darkness of the alley behind the restaurant, peering out into the street. A soft crack resonated through the deserted street, letting Hermione know that Ron too had Disapparated. After waiting a minute or two to be sure that he had gone, Hermione walked out into the street and made her way past the restaurant and headed for a Muggle nightclub a few doors down on the opposite side of the road.

Upon entering the club Hermione's ears were immediately assaulted by the volume of the music. She squinted through the semidarkness down from the balcony towards the dance floor, where lots of gyrating bodies were bathed in multicoloured flashing lights.

Hermione stuffed her shawl into her handbag and pushed her way towards the bar on the back wall to order a stiff drink.

A few strong drinks later, and after several offers from various men to either buy her a drink or for a dance, Hermione was starting to feel better. She was feeling happier and carefree in her semi-drunken stupor. _Well, I suppose if that's how he's going to treat me then I'm better off without him, and I should have some fun,_ she thought, before making her way to the dance floor, swaying slightly as she went.

Hermione had been dancing alone for four or five songs, unwinding and having fun forgetting about what's-his-face and his infidelity. Needing to get away from the heat of the lights and the sweaty bodies pressing in on all sides, Hermione stumbled back to the bar for another drink.

The young bartender placed the glass filled with ice and clear alcoholic liquid on the bar in front of Hermione, who dug into her handbag and pulled out her purse.

"Let me get this," said a deep voice from beside her.

Hermione smiled and turned to the generous stranger. "Thank you," she said sweetly and flashed a dazzling grin at the man, pausing to look closely at him. Her jaw dropped open. "_Malfoy?_"

Draco Malfoy leant on the railing of the balcony inside the Muggle nightclub that enjoyed visiting. He often went there two or three times a week, in order to escape the pressures of the wizarding world, and sometimes to pick up a Muggle girl to spend the night with.

Looking down at the dance floor from his vantage point, Draco scanned the dancing crowd searching out a suitable young lady that he would take home that night. As he moved his silver gaze from one person to another, his attention was caught by a brunette woman, who made her way to the centre of the dance floor. A quick glance around let Draco know that she was without company and he continued to watch her with interest.

Draco smirked, as he gave her the once over, taking in the dainty high heels that led to her long slender legs, and as she swayed and gyrated to the music, her black dress raised up slightly and he was sure he caught a glimpse of the lacy top of a stocking. There was something very appealing about a woman wearing stockings to Draco that he couldn't take his eyes off of this beauty before him.

As her body pulsed and twisted to the beat of the music, Draco continued his visual examination of her feminine form. His silver eyes continued up over every curve of her delicate body, travelling over her sensual bust and resting on the tantalising dip of her cleavage. Absentmindedly Draco wetted his top lip with the tip of his tongue.

When the woman on the dance floor turned to face the balcony, Draco finally found his gaze coming to rest on her pretty face. Her eyes were closed, and her plump cherry lips were parted as she remained lost in the beat, her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat, and a thin film of sweat glistened on her slender neck where a thin tendril of hair that had escaped the glamorous up-do had stuck to her creamy skin. Draco longed to get close enough to this enchantress to smooth that ringlet of rich brown away from her neck and replace it with his lips and tongue; he longed to run his hands over her supple curves and up her long legs. Draco shook his head to remove those images as he felt a stirring between his legs.

He once again returned his gaze to her face, when he was struck by a pang of realisation. He recognised her; he'd seen her somewhere before, but where?

Then it hit him. _Granger,_ he thought to himself incredulously, _no way!_ He looked closer, leaning over the railing in front of him to get a better look, then pushed himself back again in shock. It _was_ her; it was Hermione Granger.

Draco thought back to the last time he had seen her, it had been just after the War and she still resembled the bushy haired know-it-all bookworm she had always been, just a little more confident. He peered once more at the goddess on the dance floor. It was definitely her all right, but now she was happily showing off the fabulous figure that must have been hidden under her baggy witches robes all those years ago. She had also learned to control her frizzy hair and had also started to wear makeup.

All thoughts of finding a one-night stand had disappeared from Draco's mind as he watched Hermione leave the dance floor and climb the stairs, heading for the bar.

Draco pushed his tall athletic frame through the crowd to reach the bar next to an oblivious Hermione. As she ordered her drink he breathed in her sweet scent, and had a closer look at her stunning figure. As Hermione's drink was placed on the countertop, she routed through her handbag to find her purse.

"Let me get this," Draco said as he gave the bartender the money and ordered a drink for himself.

Hermione flashed a smile at him, lighting up her beautiful face. "Thank you," she breathed.

Draco smirked as he watched her eyes struggle in her inebriated state to focus on his face. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as recognition hit.

"_Malfoy?_" she gasped.

A small chuckle escaped Draco's lips; he nodded his thanks to the barman as he picked up his drink. "Please, Granger," he said casually, staring into her warm chocolate brown eyes, "Call me Draco."

She continued to stare for a second or two, before shaking her head disbelievingly. Hermione cleared her throat and picked up her drink, "Thank you …Draco."

"No problem, Granger," he smirked, then raised his glass to hers, "Cheers."

Hermione gently knocked her glass against Draco's. "Cheers," she said, before taking a sip and adding, "Hermione."

Draco froze, with his glass resting on his bottom lip. Frowning he lowered his glass again and turned to Hermione. "What?"

Hermione laughed. "My name, its Hermione."

Draco raised his glass again and smiled at her. After taking a sip, he led Hermione away from the bar back towards his spot on the balcony. He couldn't help but smile as she swayed slightly as she walked alongside him. They both leant on the railing, facing out towards the dance floor, taking small sips of their drinks, before Draco turned to face Hermione.

"So, Gra…Hermione," he quickly corrected himself, surprised at how smoothly the name rolled off of his tongue. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

Then to his surprise and horror, Hermione, who was still looking out over the dance floor, lowered her head and promptly burst into tears.


	3. Dutch Courage

**A/N: **Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added this to either their Fave list or Alert list. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and please keep the reviews coming, this is my first ever fanfic so I'm a little unsure and I'm in need of some reassurance!!

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I'm not JK Rowling, I swear I'm only borrowing her characters and will give them back... eventually.

**Dutch Courage**

Hermione leant on the railing of the balcony, overlooking the dance floor in the nightclub, cradling her drink in her hands. She felt Draco looking at her, and hurriedly took a sip of her drink to disguise the flush she felt creeping up her face.

"So, Gra…Hermione," he said, correcting himself and causing Hermione to suppress a grin at how sensual her name sounded when spoken from his peachy lips. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

Without any warning and no time to prepare herself, Hermione felt all the memories of Ron and his unfaithfulness surge to the forefront of her mind, and she lowered her head as hot tears spilled from her eyes.

Shame, anger, hurt, humiliation; these were just some of the emotions that were whirring confusedly through Hermione, and all she could do was sob uncontrollably.

A gentle warm hand placed on her bare, quivering shoulder brought her back to reality. Suddenly the loud pounding music filled her ears again, and raising her head slightly, Hermione could see the clubbers writhing around on the dance floor once more. She swiftly wiped at her eyes with the back of her shaking hand, only to have a deep green handkerchief dangled in front of her tear-stained face. Hermione took it and dabbed at her eyes with it, before turning to look at its owner.

Her eyes widened when her gaze was met by an intent silver stare. She smiled weakly at Draco and, after registering that his elegant hand was still resting gently on her bare skin, she turned back to meet his gaze; there was something in those silver orbs that Hermione had never seen there before, was it concern? Surely not, this was Draco Malfoy, all round arrogant git that only cared about himself right? But then…

_People change,_ she thought morosely, _Ron sure did._

With that thought, a fresh wave of tears engulfed her. Her drink was taken from her unsteady hands and a strong masculine pair of arms wrapped around her and held her tightly. Hermione was taken aback at first, but with her mind clouded with hurt and alcohol, she soon leant into the embrace, burying her face into the muscular chest and breathing in a heavenly cologne. As Draco held her and, much to her surprise, comforted her, Hermione began to relax and regain a grip on her emotions.

* * *

After handing Hermione his dark green silk handkerchief and receiving a very weak smile from the distraught girl, Draco felt a pang of emotion. He didn't know why but suddenly he had a strong urge to comfort this fragile creature in front of him; he wanted to comfort her, and to find out who had upset her so much and then hex them into oblivion.

These new feelings caused Draco some concern; he'd never felt such strong emotions sparked by someone he barely knew before. And then he found himself wanting to get to know Hermione. He'd never given her a chance before. At school he had hated her and teased her constantly.

_Who am I kidding? I never hated her,_ thought Draco. _I disliked her immensely, but purely because I was supposed to hate her, I was _meant_ to hate her but I just couldn't._

His thoughts were interrupted then by fresh sobbing from the poor girl beside him. Draco leaned over and took the empty glass that was dangling precariously from Hermione's quivering hands, placing it on a nearby table next to his own empty glass. Then he did something that took them both by surprise; he placed his arms around her delicate petite frame, and pulled her close to him, allowing her to let it all out.

As Hermione cried into his chest, he could feel a damp patch begin to develop on his ? shirt from her tears, but he couldn't care less. Draco just pulled her closer and held her more firmly to him, and as he did so he breathed in the gorgeous scent coming from her hair. He gently smoothed her hair with one hand in a calming manner, and quietly made little shushing noises whilst resting his chin on the top of her head.

Hermione was beginning to calm down again, her breathing returning to normal and no longer the shallow gasps from her hysteria. But Draco continued to hold her and soothe her. Hermione removed her hands from her tearstained face, and rested her cheek against Draco's firm chest, whilst wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself flush against him. Draco didn't notice that his eyes had closed as he very gently began rocking Hermione from side to side in time to the music.

_Mmm, coconut,_ Draco thought taking another deep breath and finally placing the delicious smell coming from Hermione's hair. As soon as the thought had registered in Draco's conscious mind, his eyes flew open and he immediately felt very uncomfortable with the intimacy of being so close to the girl he was taught to hate because of her heritage.

His first instinct was to push Hermione away from him and flee from the premises, but he knew he couldn't do that to her, especially when she was already clearly distraught over something. So instead he gently stepped back from her grasp and took her small hand in his own and began leading her towards the exit.

* * *

Hermione found her breathing returning to normal and the tears were no longer flowing as freely. She found, much to her great surprise, that there was something strangely comforting about being in Draco's muscular embrace.

Once she had calmed down, she lowered her arms from her saviour's waist. Draco reached out a hand for one of hers, and grasped it firmly but gently, pulling her slowly through the crowd to the exit. As they stepped out onto the cold dark street, Hermione turned to Draco.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quieter," was the reply, as Draco continued to along the road trailing Hermione behind him. "I was thinking we should maybe go get a coffee?" Draco paused and turned to look at Hermione for a second. "I get the feeling that you need to talk about something."

His silver gaze was so intense and genuine, that Hermione was momentarily rendered speechless. All she could do was stare at this man in front of her; a man that was so familiar to look at, and yet he really wasn't the same person she had gone to school with.

After a couple of seconds of silence Hermione still hadn't disagreed, so Draco resumed towing her to a little all-night café at the other end of the road.

When they reached their destination, Hermione was surprised to see it was a normal Muggle café. But it was a quaint, warm little place. Draco ordered two cappuccinos and led her to a comfortable looking black leather settee, situated at the back of the room with a small pine coffee table in front of it. Taking a seat as far into the corner of the settee as she could manage, Hermione stared awkwardly down at her hands in her lap.

Draco settled himself comfortably onto the other end of the seat, he turned to Hermione and asked with a soft voice, "So? You want to talk about it?"

* * *

After lounging comfortably on the leather couch for a moment or two, Draco turned his silver gaze onto the brunette beside him. He smirked as he noticed that she had squeezed herself as far into the corner of the sofa as was humanely possible; and he tried not to notice the fact that Hermione's dress had ridden up a bit and he could now see the lacy top of her sheer stocking more than halfway up her toned thigh. He quickly averted his gaze from her exposed flesh and focused instead on the strange motion that she made with her hands.

Hermione's small hands were clasped together in her lap, but she was constantly running her thumb and forefinger from her right hand around one of the fingers on her left hand; the finger next to her pinky. Draco frowned slightly, obviously this move was significant some how, but right now he was in the dark as to its meaning.

"So?" he asked in the softest voice her could manage, "You want to talk about it?"

Draco could see her whole body stiffen slightly, and the finger movements ceased. Slowly she shook her head, and then raised her chocolate eyes up to meet his gaze. Draco felt a pang of emotion when he saw that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Unsure how to go about comforting her, he went with his instinct and reached out a hand and placed it over both of her dainty hands, which were still clasped in her lap, and squeezing in a reassuring kind of way.

At that moment the waitress approached their table and set down to big steaming cups of Italian coffee before them. She grinned at Draco, clearly taken with his handsome looks, although her smile faltered slightly when she saw him holding both of Hermione's hands. "Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" she asked in a husky tone with emphasis on the word _anything_ in a flirty fashion.

Only Draco heard the barely audible snort issue from Hermione at the waitress's lack of subtlety. He turned to her, suppressing his smirk. "Would you like anything to eat, Hermione?" again he was taken aback at how nice her name felt rolling off of his tongue.

Hermione, whose gaze had dropped to her lap once again the second the waitress had approached, merely shrugged, as she continued to stare at his hand over hers.

"Um, I think we'll have two blueberry muffins please," Draco said politely, he was himself feeling peckish and thought it would be rude to eat in front of Hermione without getting her something. Plus he figured that it could help soak up the vast amount of alcohol that his companion had obviously consumed.

Once the waitress had left, Draco gave her hands one last squeeze, before withdrawing his and taking up his coffee cup. Hermione followed suit, and without being aware of it, Draco found his eyes glued to her mouth as she raised the cup to her chin and slightly puckered her lips in order to gently blow away the steam issuing from the hot liquid. He had to force himself to stop staring at the unintentional erotic act.

The waitress returned once more, bearing two small white plates each one topped with a large blueberry muffin. Placing them onto the small coffee table she smirked seductively at Draco before returning to the counter to gossip with her workmate.

Draco handed one plate to Hermione, her fingers accidentally brushing his as she took the plate from him. He almost threw the muffin at her as he felt a jolt of electricity pulse through his body from his fingers straight to his lower abdomen. Clearing his throat to distract himself, he searched desperately for something to say to cover the silence between them. But he was saved when Hermione spoke up, her voice less shaky now.

"Mal… sorry, Draco. Why are you doing this?" she waved a hand holding a chunk of cake to indicate him, the plate and cup, the whole situation.

He paused for a moment and took a sip of his coffee whilst he pondered that question, wondering the same thing himself. He decided that he might as well just tell her the outright truth.

"Because," he paused, taking a small bite from his own muffin, before continuing. "I don't really know why. I saw you in the club and, you look great by the way." He grinned as Hermione flushed red and mumbled a tiny 'thank you'. "I decided to buy you a drink so that we could talk, but then when you, um, well, you know," he gestured at her then at his eyes to indicate tears. When she nodded with a small smile he continued, "Well, I just wanted to help you out."

Hermione looked at him curiously, as Draco determinedly avoided making eye contact with her. "But why did you want to help me? You hate me. To you I'm nothing more than a filthy little Mud-"

Draco cut sharply across her. "Don't say that word," he said in a quiet yet hard voice. Hermione's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline at the irony of the situation.

"I'm sorry," he said so quietly Hermione leant towards him unable to hear it.

"Pardon?"

Taking a deep breath, Draco looked her square in the eye. "I said I was sorry… for everything. For all the hell I put you through at school; for all the insults I hurled at you and your friends; and especially for ever calling you that word!" Hermione's jaw hung open.

Finally finding her voice after that immense shock, Hermione asked, "Why now? After all this time, what's changed?"

Draco was taken by surprise at her directness. He allowed his eyes to roam over her beautiful face for a moment, taking in every contour and detail. Back at school he had never allowed himself to look at her in this way; his parents had brought him up in a way that meant he viewed Muggle-born witches (and wizards) as less than human, so he never gave them a second glance. But now…

_Wow,_ he thought, getting lost in the pools of chocolate in her eyes.

She reached out tentatively and very lightly rested her hand on his arm. He stared at it for a second, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a sexy deep red nail varnish on her long manicured fingernails. Then pulling himself back to reality he addressed Hermione's questions.

"In case you haven't noticed, I've changed a lot in the last few years," he said with a tone of unmistakable pain, as though her failure to see that hurt, and Draco realised it really did.

"Oh, of course I've noticed," laughed Hermione sweetly, causing Draco to gulp for air as the musical sound left him breathless. As she laughed, she absentmindedly moved closer to him on the couch and massaged his arm with her warm hand.

"I'm glad," he responded in a voice that was higher than normal. He cleared his throat and continued, "Well, after the War we, that is my mother, father and I, were cleared of all charges of Deatheater activity, which you know as Potter told the court what my mother had done for him in the Forrest." Hermione nodded. "Well although my father avoided going to Azkaban, he still seemed to go unhinged afterwards. He would stay in bed for days on end, muttering to himself about all the values that he held dear. Well they were outdated, and after the downfall of the Dark Lord those of us trying to fit back in with society had to change our opinions on blood status and such."

Draco swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. Downing the last of his coffee and banging down his empty cup with more force than he intended, he resumed his tale. "In the end my mother had no choice but to send him to St Mungo's. He's still there now, in the Closed Ward, alongside the Longbottoms who were tortured to insanity by his own sister-in-law." He gave a short bitter laugh at the irony of it all. "Once he was safely out of the way, my mother encouraged me to rid myself of all the prejudices that had, in the end, drove my father mad. And so I did. Now I work hard for a living instead of dossing on my inheritance; I even set free my house-elves and the ones that chose to stay have days off and wages."

Hermione grinned at this news about the house-elves. Draco couldn't stop a smile of his own forming in return.

"And lastly, I no longer think of myself as above Half-Bloods, Muggle-borns or even Muggles themselves. Basically thanks to my father's insanity and my mother's new outlook on what was really important in life, I was able to break away from what I had been forced to become; instead I became who I wanted to be. And the final step, to ease my conscience (yes I do have one now) was to apologise to you."

He turned to her once more, and his silver eyes shone with a mixture of regret for the way he used to be, and pride at his achievements and transformation.

"Wow," said Hermione quietly, digesting all that she had heard. "I forgive you, Draco." Immediately he felt a rush of gratitude towards the beautiful witch next to him. She leaned in and very lightly touched her plump full lips to his cheek, and Draco could feel the heat rise up his neck and across his cheeks.

* * *

Hermione could barely take it all in. Everything that Draco had just told her seemed so farfetched and absurd, but his expression and the intense look in his eyes told Hermione that it was indeed the truth.

"Wow," she breathed deeply, knowing what must now be done to ease her own mind as well as Draco's conscience. "I forgive you Draco." Without thinking Hermione let her instincts take over as she leant slowly forward and softly kissed his chiselled cheekbone.

Hermione leapt back, apologising profusely in a quiet rambling voice, but she was silenced when she looked at Draco and noticed a blush creep across his handsome face. _Draco Malfoy blushing, who'd have thought it possible?_ She thought with a private smile.

Placing her now empty cup and plate onto the table, Hermione considered Draco for a moment. Whilst they were at school he had always been so horrid to her that she had never even thought to look at Draco as anything other than an enemy. Now though, she peered at his profile and had to admit that he was incredibly handsome. His face was less pointy looking than it was in his youth, now it appeared to be strong and chiselled. His white-blond hair was no longer slicked back, it currently hung freely on his forehead, skimming his eyelashes and causing him to run his fingers through it to push it back from his face. He also looked great in Muggle clothes; he was wearing a pair of black jeans with a deep green shirt and a black jacket that emphasised his broad shoulders. And his eyes; Hermione had never looked at them before tonight, but now that she had, and taken in their unique silver-grey-blue kind of colour, Hermione found herself drifting away in them.

The waitress once again approached their table, startling Hermione back to the present and caused her to blush. The waitress removed their empty crockery, and set down a small saucer with the bill on it with a not-so-discreet wink in Draco's direction, which he chose to ignore. Before Hermione could react, Draco peered at the price on the receipt and pulled some Muggle money from his pocket and dropped it onto the saucer with a tinkling sound.

Draco stood and silently held out his right arm to her. Chuckling slightly, Hermione got to her feet, straightened her dress and grabbed her bag, before curling her hand around the proffered arm, just above the elbow. Hermione could feel his bicep tense beneath her fingers as he moved to lead her from the café.

Stepping out onto the cold dark street, Hermione's bare skin was assaulted by an icy breeze, causing an involuntary shiver. Draco took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, sending a wave of heat coursing through her veins that had little to do with the jacket. "Thank you," she said coyly.

Draco just smiled and hooked her hand over his arm again and led her along the lamp lit road, passing in and out of patches of orange as the passed under the streetlights.

"My fiancé was a cheat!"

Both Draco and Hermione stopped walking in the same instance. Draco turned to her with wide eyes, and Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent anything else escaping from it. She had been thinking about what had happened, and that she really did need to talk, but she hadn't meant to just blurt it out like that. A wave of shame and humiliation washed over.

Draco reached out and took one of her hands in each of his, turning her to look at him. He remained silent, but his eyes told her to continue.

After several gulps of cold night air, Hermione looked up into Draco's silver orbs. "Ron and I got together directly after the War. He proposed after Harry and Ginny's wedding. Tonight we were meeting in a fancy restaurant just down the road there, but he was late. When he finally arrived he smelt of girl's perfume and had lipstick on his collar. He has been cheating on me. I don't know how long for or who with, but right now I couldn't care less!"

Her voice had risen in anger, and Draco glanced around to be sure that there were no other people in sight. Then he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close to his body. This time, Hermione did not sob; not a single tear was seen. If fact Hermione wasn't even thinking about Ron any more; she was now perplexed by how much she was enjoying being so close to Draco's firm, muscular body.

"The ring?!" Draco suddenly exclaimed.

"Pardon?" asked Hermione thoroughly baffled, pulling her head back to look up at him.

Draco smiled embarrassedly at his outburst, but something suddenly made sense. Pulling up her left hand to inspect it he said, "Earlier, you kept rubbing this finger," he indicated her ring finger, that until a few hours previous had been adorned with a diamond ring. "I didn't get why you did that repeatedly at first, but now I understand."

Hermione found herself smiling up at him. The smile widened and then turned into a small giggle in the back of her throat. Draco laughed gently too, not because he found anything particularly funny, but because her giggle was infectious and he felt she needed to laugh right then.

The sound of Draco's laughter was alien to her, but altogether very pleasant. As they laughed together in the deserted dark street, Draco held her close again and absentmindedly brushed a rouge ringlet away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Hermione's laughter died on her lips at the intimacy of the gesture as she stared up into his face, which suddenly wore an expression that she'd never seen on his handsome features before.

Draco leant down slightly, pulling her closer still into his body. Instinctively her arms snaked around his neck and she pushed up onto her toes, closing the gap between their lips. As her lips touched his it felt as though a spark ignited at her mouth and sent a flame sweeping through her body.

* * *

Draco couldn't quite explain, not even to himself, exactly what he was feeling when he pulled the beautiful witch tightly against his chest and looked down at her with a seriousness that contrasted against the light-hearted laughter from a few second ago.

As Hermione's slender arms, now clad in his own jacket, curled around his neck, he felt her wobble slightly as she rose onto her tiptoes. She pulled him closer with one hand on the back of his neck, as her lips pressed themselves into his. On the moment of contact Draco felt as if a stick of dynamite had been detonated in his stomach.

He was surprised; surprised that she had made the move; surprised that he was standing in Muggle London, kissing Hermione Granger; and surprised by how much he was enjoying it. He placed one large hand on the small of her back and splayed his fingers, pulling her into him all the more. The other found its way to the nape of her slender exposed neck where he kneaded the skin and muscle gently, causing a small moan to escape from the young witch.

Draco smiled against her lips, before lightly running his tongue over them, begging for access into the warm moist depths of her sweet mouth. Almost as soon as the tip of his tongue had touched her full bottom lip, she gladly parted her lips to allow his tongue to explore. He revelled in the taste of her, and felt a low groan rumble from the back of his throat as Hermione began to massage his tongue with her own, her hands now running up and down his neck, in and out of his hair.

Time seemed to stand still. The kiss may have lasted only a few minutes, but to Draco it felt like an eternity. Slowly they broke apart, panting for breath. Draco's mind that had been gloriously blank whilst he was kissing her was now racing ten to the dozen. Hermione's face clouded with confusion as she pulled back from his hold.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she said in a trembling voice, shaking her head as she stepped back. Before Draco had a chance to respond, she turned on the spot and was gone, leaving him with nothing but an echo of her Disapparation, and the incessant tingling of his lips. Dumbstruck Draco headed for home, checking that the coast was clear he too Disapparated.

* * *

The kiss felt amazing, as Draco's talented tongue explored the inside of her mouth. But suddenly Ron's face loomed in her mind. _What am I doing?_ She asked herself sternly.

She pulled back from his strong arms, breathing hard, and she could feel his reluctance to let the kiss and embrace end. Her thoughts were now swirling around her head in a confused muddle. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she said, hearing her voice wavering. She stepped back from him and Disapparated to her old room in her mum and dad's house that they kept for her for when she visited them.

Hermione rubbed her hands together to try to stop them from shaking. Spinning in a slow circle, breathing deeply, she took in the familiar sights of the room she had grown up in and this calmed her. Or at least it did until she caught sight of herself in her floor length mirror, when she realised that she was still wearing Draco's jacket.

She hurriedly took it off and draped it over the back of her chair, then she retrieved her wand from her handbag and conjured herself into a comfy pair of rosy pink pyjamas. Flinging herself onto her bed facedown, Hermione fought to block memories of the various events from the night just ending, and drifted off into an uneasy, yet thankfully dreamless, sleep.


	4. Bimbo and the Beast

**Bimbo and the Beast**

The bright sunshine streamed in through an opening between the peach curtains, slicing the air in the room like a knife, and landing across a pair of tightly shut eyes. Hermione Granger groaned and pulled the duvet up over her head. Peeking out from beneath the quilt, she forced her puffy eyelids open and stared at the small clock on her bedside table until the digits came into focus. 6.14am. With another groan, Hermione sat up quickly, causing her head to spin unpleasantly.

Glancing around herself, Hermione tried to discern where she was. Taking in the peach walls and dusky rose carpet, she realised she was in her bedroom at her parents' house. Hermione gingerly moved to sit on the edge of her bed with her bare feet on the cool wooden floor, hoping to ease the spinning sensation in her head that was accompanied by a sickening pounding feeling.

Picking up her wand she summoned a glass from her desk and filled it with cold water from the tip of her wand. Taking a sip, Hermione tried to figure out what had happened the night before that lead to her spending the night at her parents' house.

Various memories flooded into her mind in a random order. Dancing in a club; a smell of perfume; silver-grey eyes; the restaurant. Hermione hugged a cushion tightly to her chest as she tried to put the events into order. She could remember getting ready to go out, and a quick glance at the floor where her dress and shoes lay assured her of that. Then there was the restaurant, and sitting at the table by herself. She could recall Ron arriving late looking flushed, and the smell of perfume. _And the lipstick mark on his collar,_ the thought crashed through Hermione like a tidal wave. A single tear slid from the corner of her chocolate brown eye and ran to the edge of her lips where she absentmindedly pulled it into her mouth with the tip of her pink tongue.

Hermione squeezed her eyes closed as she held the cushion to her as hard as she could. _I will not cry over him again,_ she promised herself.

Suddenly her eyes flew open as another flash of a silver gaze floated before her on the insides of her eyelids. More memories seeped to the forefront of her mind. A blush crept over Hermione's delicate features as she remembered dancing by herself at the nightclub. Then there was a familiar face and a café. And then…

_Oh my god! I kissed Draco Malfoy!_

Hermione flung herself backwards onto her bed and pulled her cushion over her face. As she thought over the events again, she raised one corner of her soft fluffy shield and glanced over at her chair. Sure enough hanging on the back of it was Draco's black jacket.

_What am I going to do?_ She thought desperately.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had returned home to a quaint generous sized cottage that he had recently purchased after being left alone in the middle of a dark deserted street. He had then sat up most of the night thinking over the peculiar events that he had been involved in only to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning on his comfortable black leather settee.

Draco's sleep was filled with dreams of a brunette goddess swaying her hips and gyrating before him, clad in a tight black dress and flashing the frilly lace tops of her stockings. Her skin glistened with sweet perspiration, and her chocolate brown eyes rendered him incapable of speech. He pulled the beautiful witch to him and she pressed her soft curves into his body. Her plump pink lips met his in a frenzied kiss, and the taste of her mouth and tongue sent his senses reeling.

It was with a start that Draco awoke to find his house-elf standing before him bearing an anxious expression. Dazed Draco glanced around himself, his mind still swimming with visions of his dream.

"M-master Draco, s-sir?" the house-elf stuttered. "Why did Master not sleep in his bed last night, sir? Tabby went to wake you sir, and you was not there in your room. Tabby was very worried sir, and I finds you asleep on the sofa, sir? Is you alright, Master?"

Draco stared at the house-elf standing before him, wearing a small sheet like a Roman toga, unable to let her rambling words sink into his whirring mind. Images of his very vivid dream were still fresh in his mind, and in his loins too he noticed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

The longer Draco sat there staring straight through the stricken house-elf, the more worried and apprehensive poor Tabby became. A strangled whimper escaped her lips, pulling Draco from his reverie.

"Its ok Tabby, I'm fine," soothed Draco. "Although, I could really do with a large mug of strong black coffee, please?"

A relieved Tabby swept into a low curtsy and bobbed out of the room, and came bustling back in bearing a silver platter upon which was balanced a deep mug filled to the brim with steaming black aromatic coffee.

Draco thanked the creature and with one final curtsy, Tabby disappeared with a _crack._ Settling back on the settee and cradling his mug in both hands, Draco contemplated his dream. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind and he figured it was trying to tell him there was more to it than just a fictitious dream. He blew the steam from the surface of the dark liquid and took a long slow gulp, letting the caffeine awaken his tired body and mind.

Suddenly he gulped back a mouthful of coffee too quickly and began to choke, burning the back of his throat in the process and causing his eyes to water. Draco took a deep steadying breath and blinked back the moisture that had gathered at the corners of his silver eyes. _Oh, Merlin! That was no dream…_ Draco shook his head to be sure it was clear; it was, he had remembered correctly.

_I snogged Hermione Granger!_

After some careful consideration all of the events of the previous evening had flooded to the forefront of Draco's mind. He recalled spying her in the nightclub, buying her a drink, comforting Hermione through her tears… at this Draco felt an odd lurch in the pit of his stomach. Then he had taken her for coffee, and most unlike himself, Draco had completely ignored the attentions of the pretty waitress opting instead to focus on Hermione. He had even told her things about himself that he had never divulged to another living person. Then they had taken a walk down the dark street and Hermione confessed the source of her tears…

_I could kill that Weasel! How dare he hurt her like that,_ Draco thought angrily as a wave of fury crashed through him, taking him completely by surprise. Seething, he slammed down his empty mug and stormed through the cottage to his room to freshen up. _If I ever see his stupid freckled face again, I swear I will kill him!_

* * *

Hermione spent the morning lounging around the small house where she had spent the early part of her childhood. Once she had began attending Hogwarts and her parents were able to work much longer hours, they had opened their own dental surgery in the heart of the city, with a trendy modern apartment above it where they lived most of time. Although they had kept the small family home that they owned on the outskirts of the city for use during the school holidays when Hermione returned home.

Unfortunately when Hermione had altered her parents' memories and sent them to live in Australia to protect them during the War, the practice had to be closed. And then when the War was over and Hermione flew to the other side of the globe to fetch them, she had found she was unable to lift the memory charm and had decided to leave them where they were as they seemed to be really happy with their new lives and identities.

So when she returned to Britain, Hermione's parents had been declared deceased and she inherited everything. With no use for the dental surgery or the apartment, Hermione had sold them, but she could not bear to part with her childhood home and she visited it whenever she needed to get away.

The house was small and Hermione had never entered her parents' bedroom since they had "vanished". But still she loved the house.

After taking a long hot shower to refresh herself and ease her brewing hangover, Hermione began to clean the house from top to bottom, or more accurately bottom to top. Hermione always found that cleaning was the perfect way to stop her mind from dwelling on things that caused her pain and confusion, and at that moment in time she needed escape from the pain of what Ron had done to her and a break from the confusion of her time with Draco.

Finally when there was nothing else she could possibly clean, Hermione returned to her room and changed out of her scruffy jogging trousers and baggy, bleach-stained t-shirt, and into a pair of dark denim jeans that hugged her backside nicely and hung low on her hips teamed with a pale pink gingham fitted shirt. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, a few curls had escaped and instead hung around her face. Taking a deep breath, Hermione picked up Draco's jacket from the back of her chair and Apparated away.

Arriving outside of a small wooden gate on the edge of a beautiful country garden, Hermione glanced up at the stunning cottage. It was of a generous size, with ivy trailing up one side of the red brick building. A trellis with pale yellow roses growing up it adorned the wall to the right of the front door, which just like the gate was painted a dark pea green.

Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes. _Definitely Draco's house, _she thought, noticing that there was a bench that was also painted in the same shade of a certain Slytherin's favourite colour.

With one last deep breath for courage, Hermione pushed open the gate and made her way to the front door, where she tapped the knocker twice. Whilst she waited, Hermione bent to smell one of the roses.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" came a deep voice from the doorway.

Hermione started and jumped back a couple of steps. Glancing up at the man standing in the open door way, her mouth went dry and all she could do was stare at him for several seconds. Feeling the jacket starting to slip from her arm, Hermione quickly came to her senses and held it out to him avoiding his gaze choosing instead to stare at the hem of his left trouser leg.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Thank you for lending me your jacket. And for the coffee, and listening to me…" her voice trailed off as her confidence failed her.

She felt Draco reach out and take the jacket from her outstretched hand, as he did so his fingers brushed against her own causing her to pull her arm back as though she had received an electric shock from his touch; which in all honesty is exactly how she felt.

"You're welcome," he stated, and Hermione could hear the smile in his voice causing her to look at his handsome face. "So, how did you find me here?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh, I um, stopped by the ministry, and Blaise told me. I hope that's ok?" she looked at him apprehensively, suddenly feeling that this was the worst decision she had ever made. But that feeling abated quickly as he smiled once more.

"It's fine, Hermione. Would you like a tour? I've not long moved in."

Hermione blushed at the intense look that Draco gave her. "I um, well, that is…" she stuttered.

Draco relieved her of her awkwardness. "Maybe next time?" he offered.

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at him. "That would be good." They looked at each other for a moment, before Hermione broke the spell. "I had better be going. Good bye Draco." She gave him a small wave and walked quickly back down the path. She looked back him and saw him leaning against the doorframe casually. The last thing she saw before she Apparated back to her own apartment was him wave at her with a grin displayed on his handsome face.

* * *

Draco watched Hermione turn on the spot and disappear with a faint _pop_. He continued to gaze at the place where she had been standing only a moment before for a few seconds, until he heard a small cough from beside him. He looked down to see Tabby giving him a curious look with her large green orb-like eyes.

"I sees that you has your jacket back now, Master. Should Tabby go launder it for you, sir?" the house-elf asked with her squeaky voice.

Draco brought the jacket up to his face and inhaled deeply. He could smell Hermione's sweet perfume on the dark fabric. Not knowing what made him do it, Draco shook his head. "No thank you, Tabby." And he climbed the stairs to his room still clutching his jacket tightly to him, leaving a bewildered Tabby to close the front door.

Once in his room, Draco sat on the edge of his large four-poster bed with his jacket laid carefully across his lap. He fingered the fabric gently and shook his head. _What is the matter with me?_ He thought. Never in his life had a mere female brought forth this kind of reaction from him. But then, Hermione was no 'mere female'.

As his mind wandered once again over the events of the previous night, namely watching Hermione dance, holding her in his arms and, of course, that kiss, Draco realised that a cold shower would be required.

Draco then spent the rest of his day catching up on paperwork in his study, stopping only to use the bathroom and to eat lunch, which he requested Tabby bring to his desk. It wasn't that he enjoyed paperwork, quite the opposite was true; he loathed it, but it seemed to be the only thing that would take his mind off of that darned witch.

There was a light tap at his door, and with a grateful sigh at the interruption, Draco put down his quill and massaged his aching hand. "Enter," he called. The door opened and Tabby stepped into the room.

"Master told Tabby to tell him when it was 6 o'clock, sir. And 6 o'clock it be now. Sir's favourite dress robes is pressed and hanging in Master's room ready. Would Master be needing anything else from Tabby, sir?" Draco shook his head and thanked the house-elf. She dropped into a low curtsey and backed out of the study, closing the door behind her.

Draco stood and stretched his arms above his head to encourage the blood flow to his stiff limbs. He headed to his room to shower and change for a Ministry gathering that Blaise had invited him to that consisted of a sit down dinner followed by drinks and dancing.

Once he was ready, he let Tabby know that he was leaving and not to bother waiting up for him (even though she always did) and made his way onto the deserted lane that lay beyond his green gate. There he turned on the spot and Apparated to the alley behind the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Hermione huffed loudly. She didn't see why she still felt obligated to go to the stupid Ministry function. But Ginny had arrived at her flat and after a lengthy talk during which Hermione told her everything, including her run-in with Draco but conveniently forgetting to mention the kiss, Ginny had persuaded her to go to prove to the world, to Ron and most importantly to herself that Ronald Weasley had not won. Plus being an Assistant Head of a department within the Ministry she really did have an obligation to attend.

Hermione glanced at the vivacious red-head beside her. Ginny looked fabulous for a woman with a young infant. Thankfully her mother had volunteered to look after young James overnight to allow Ginny and Harry to enjoy an evening out together, the first since little James had been born. Now standing there wearing a figure-hugging floor length bottle green dress (to match Harry's eyes) and with her long flame red hair hanging freely down her back, she looked simply stunning.

Stepping back from the mirror to take in the full effect of her appearance, Hermione was very pleased that Ginny had insisted she wear the outfit that Hermione had purchased during their last shopping spree together a few weeks previous. The dress was gorgeous. It was made from a deep Gryffindor-red satin; the top part comprised of a tightly fitted bodice, with gold embroidered detailing and gold corded straps; the bodice made her trim waist appear even smaller and pushed her breasts up to form a jaw dropping cleavage. Beneath the bodice hung the flattering a-line skirt, made from the same crimson satin but without the embroidery, it reached Hermione's dainty ankles allowing her petite feet clad in subtle gold high heels to be seen. Hermione had once again twirled her hair up into a sophisticated French twist, allowing a few stubborn curls to fall around her face, which bore subtle make-up to enhance her features.

Overall Hermione was quite impressed with her reflection, adding a gold bangle to her left wrist and hanging a gold pendant around her neck so that the golden rune rested just above the valley of her cleavage. She grinned at Ginny, who beamed back, relieved to see her best friend smile again. She handed Hermione her sheer creamy-gold shawl, picked up her own emerald green shawl and asked, "Ready?"

Hermione draped her shawl around her arms, picked up her gold beaded handbag and tucked her wand inside it. Taking a deep steadying breath she nodded slowly. "I guess so."

Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's and with one last reassuring smile she Apparated them both to the Ministry, where Harry was waiting for his wife and best friend.

Once inside, Hermione felt extremely awkward. She hated being a third-wheel to her best friends and was then relieved when it was time to sit down to dinner. She found that was seated at a table with Harry, Ginny, and seven older people from various offices around the Ministry. As always the meal was delicious as at these events the Ministry hired in the very best chefs.

Unfortunately Hermione's night was not destined to run smoothly. At the end of the meal, she, Harry and Ginny made there way through to the adjoining room where a bar and dance floor had appeared, as well as a scattering of small tables. But as they entered the room Hermione was distracted by the two figures now approaching them.

"Hey Harry, Ginny," rang out a familiar voice. Hermione glared as a grinning Ron stopped in front of them, with a tall, leggy blonde hanging off of his arm. "I wanted to introduce you both to Katherine."

"Please," said the blonde in a high-pitched girly voice, "Call me Kat." Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. 'Kat' shook hands with Ginny and then Harry. "Oh my goodness," she exclaimed, her eyes alighting on Harry's forehead. "You're Harry Potter!"

Hermione and Ginny shared a look as the girl giggled manically. She then turned to Hermione. "And you would be…?"

Ginny leapt to Hermione's rescue, seeing the discomfort in her best friend's features. "This is Hermione Granger."

Kat stared at Hermione for a second, looking her up and down with a slight frown on her face. Hermione took this opportunity to take a good look at Ron's new 'girlfriend'. She was wearing a hot pink strapless mini dress that only stayed up because of the size of her barely concealed breasts. Her hair was very blonde and very big. And her face was way too made-up.

Kat looked Hermione in the eye with mild surprise. "So you're the brainy one right? You're prettier than I thought you would be for someone so, well, brainy!"

Anger flared in the pit of Hermione's stomach and she narrowed her eyes as she watched Ron lean in close and whisper something into Kat's ear causing her to laugh like a drain, a semi-clogged and very annoying drain.

Ginny threw her brother a death-stare for being so insensitive and even Harry was looking extremely annoyed with his red-haired best friend. Ron was however completely oblivious, as he continued to whisper into the ear of the girl on his arm. She laughed again and then launched herself into his embrace and planted a very wet kiss on his lips.

Tears pooled in the corners of Hermione's chocolate eyes as she watched this bimbo make out with her ex-fiancé right in front of her. Her mind began to whir, wondering if this was the woman Ron had had the affair with.

Ron finally pulled away from Kat with a noise that resembled a plunger being pulled from a drain. His face was flushed and there was pride shining in his eyes. He smiled smugly, glancing at Hermione before pulling his date onto the dance floor where they grinded and gyrated against each other in a most disturbing fashion.

Hermione turned her back to the dance floor and marched straight for the bar at the back of the room. When she reached the counter she ordered a Firewhisky, a triple shot of Firewhisky. When the bartender placed the glass in front of her she downed it in one and immediately ordered another.

* * *

Sitting by himself in a dark corner of the room, Draco watched Hermione storm to the bar and begin knocking back shot after shot of Firewhisky. He couldn't believe that Weasley was that careless and cruel as to flaunt that piece of trash in front of her. He threw a disgusted glare at the couple now eating each others faces off in the middle of the dance floor.

Turning back to face the bar, he saw Potter's wife approach her tentatively and place an arm around her friend's shoulder. Hermione shrugged her off and plastered a false smile onto her face. Nodding her head to reassure the red-head, Hermione was then left alone to drown her sorrows.

Draco watched as she swayed on the spot. This was the second night in a row that he had witnessed her drink herself into oblivion. As she teetered carelessly on her high heels, Draco swept up to her, took a firm grip on her upper arm and led her out of the Ministry.

"What – Draco, where are we going?" she asked in confusion, her voice trembling with pent up tears and her words slurring slightly.

He released his grip, somewhat reluctant to lose bodily contact with her. "I figured you needed some fresh air," he said kindly as he watched her lean on her forearms on a nearby railing. She nodded and lowered her head in silent contemplation.

Draco used that moment as an opportunity to study her. His eyes raked over her body, studying every curve and dip as the crimson fabric shimmered under the light from a nearby shop front. Draco smiled slightly, very much appreciative of how snugly the bodice of the dress fitted her feminine form. With the angle at which he stood from her, Draco could not see her face as it was still lowered towards her clasped hands, but instead he had a fantastic unrestricted view of her cleavage. He stared at the pendant that glinted tauntingly at him from its resting place just above the dip of the valley of her delicious breasts. He was overcome with a sudden desire to remove the pendant and replace it with his tongue.

_Come on Draco, _he urged himself, shaking his blond head to clear it, _Pull yourself together!_

He moved to stand beside Hermione, and mimicked her body language and leaned forward onto the railing. He turned his head to look at her face and was surprised to see no trace of tears this time.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Hermione smiled, making Draco's stomach somersault. "To be honest," she said softly, "I feel a bit sick."

Draco laughed. "I'm not surprised," he said. "Coffee?"

Smiling once more, Hermione slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Sounds good," she replied. Draco grinned at her, enjoying the sensation of her small hand on his arm as he could feel the warmth of it through the sleeve of his robes.

**A/N:** Many appologies for the delay, but we had lost our internet connection and my laptop has been poorly and I can't yet afford to get it fixed.

But to make up for it I have also written a oneshot of Draco's dream. Please read and review!


	5. Knight In Shining Armour

**Knight In Shining Armour**

Hermione stumbled along the pavement with her head full of racing thoughts. She couldn't believe that Ron could ever be so callous and parade his new girlfriend in front of her like that, and she couldn't help but wonder whether Kat was the woman Ron had cheated on her with.

Swaying drunkenly, she tripped on a wobbly kerbstone and felt a steadying hand help her regain her balance. She smiled gratefully up at Draco and tightened her grip on his arm.

_Who'd have thought, _she puzzled to herself, _that Ron could hurt me so much, and that Draco Malfoy would prove to be my rescuer… twice!_

Allowing herself to be led along the pavement and then into a cobbled side street, Hermione glanced furtively out of the corner of her eyes at the man walking next to her.

Draco had been wearing a dark charcoal-grey dressrobe for the meal, but once he had gone through to the party room he had removed it and sent it back to his cottage with one of the house-elves serving at the function. Now he was once again wearing a deep Slytherin green silk shirt, which contrasted brilliantly against his pale skin; it clung to his shoulders emphasising the broadness of them, and the top two buttons had been left undone to give a small glimpse of the smooth chiselled chest beneath. The shirt was teamed with a pair of suit trousers the same shade of grey as his robes had been. His platinum hair was hanging loosely onto his porcelain forehead and every now and then he would shake a stray strand away from his eyes, which shone brightly like two silver full moons from the pale landscape of his handsome face.

Paying little heed to what her unsteady feet were doing, Hermione caught the heel of her shoe between two cobbles and would have fallen into an embarrassed heap on the street if it hadn't been for the quick reflexes of her companion.

Quick as a flash two strong arms wrapped themselves around her slender waist before she made contact with the grey cobbled floor and hoisted her back onto her feet. Draco did not release his hold as Hermione continued to sway unsteadily.

Hermione suddenly became aware of the close proximity of him, as the soft silken sleeves of Draco's shirt brushed against her arms causing a shiver to run down her spine. They stood frozen for a second, Hermione's heart thumping loudly against her ribcage, before Draco slowly pulled back. He slid one arm around her waist to support her as she continued to sway and stumble, and led her on towards a small bistro at the other end of the street.

Blushing deeply from both the humiliation of falling and her closeness to the handsome wizard, Hermione stared straight ahead trying to concentrate on her feet and not focus on the mixture of emotions welling up inside of her.

They entered the quaint little bistro and were shown to a small table near the back of the room. Here and there couples and small groups of friends sat at tables, enjoying late suppers at round candlelit tables draped in cream and deep burgundy.

Too engrossed in her thoughts Hermione was oblivious to her surroundings and only vaguely aware of the waiter pulling out a chair for her. She sat and forced a small smile for the benefit of the waiter, who placed a menu encased in dark red leather before her.

Hermione stared at the menu for a moment before looking up at Draco with a small frown.

He smiled at her before perusing his own menu. "I don't know about you," he said, "but I always get peckish at this time of night."

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see how late it had become. The Ministry meal had been hours ago. She gave Draco a weak smile before looking over her menu.

The waiter reappeared soon after, poured them both goblets of ice cold water and took their orders. They both chose club sandwiches; Draco ordered his with prime steak whereas Hermione opted for char-grilled chicken.

Hermione sipped at her water, her mind still buzzing and her eyes prickling with unshed tears. She placed her goblet back on the table with a shaking hand and looked up to see Draco studying her closely.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Smiling as best she could, Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice to not betray her inner turmoil. Just then the waiter appeared once more and placed two white plates onto the table, bearing their club sandwiches.

Hermione removed the small wooden skewer that held her sandwich together and placed it on the gold rim of her white plate. Then picking up her shiny gold fork, she picked absentmindedly at her side salad. After swallowing a mouthful of crunchy green lettuce, she looked up to Draco.

"Do you think that was her?"

Draco blinked at her with a small frown creasing his forehead. "Who?" he asked puzzled.

"Kat," she replied. "The blonde," she added seeing Draco's still confused face. "Do you think that was _her_?" She spat the last word with such venom that she even surprised herself.

Draco stared at her, his mouth slightly open but he had no answer for her. A lone tear escaped and slid silently down Hermione's cheek before she swiped it away angrily._ I will not cry over Ronald Weasley again,_ she thought savagely to herself.

Hermione gulped back a sob and felt Draco's warm hand rest gently on top of her own. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, silently letting her know that he was there for her. She smiled gratefully at him, and then proceeded to devour her sandwich hungrily.

* * *

Draco had been watching Hermione closely. It pained him to see her looking so despondent. He could see her eyes shining in the candlelight, aware of the tears lurking there. As she lowered her goblet back onto the table he couldn't help but notice how her hand trembled.

She looked up at him, as though suddenly reminded that he was sitting across from her. She looked so mixed up and confused that Draco's stomach twisted and knotted.

"Are you ok?" he asked her, knowing it was a rather silly question, but unsure what else to say.

Just as the waiter was approaching their table with their order, Hermione smiled at him; at least Draco was sure that it was supposed to be a smile although it looked more like a grimace to him. She nodded in response to his question before turning her focus onto her food.

Draco continued to watch her as she played with her salad, her face showing the battle of emotions within. Draco took a bite of his own sandwich and swallowed just as Hermione turned to him.

"Do you think that was her?" she asked.

Draco frowned slightly; unsure as to whom Hermione was referring to. Her expression held a deadly calm. "Who?"

"Kat," Hermione replied, her voice laced with disdain at the name. Draco was still clueless as to whom Hermione was talking about, but she elaborated. "The blonde."

Realisation swept over Draco and he recalled the girl that was draped all over the Weasel back at the Ministry.

"Do you think that was _her_?" Hermione repeated, shocking Draco with the acidity of her tone.

Deep down his instinct told him that yes, Kat probably _was_ the one that Ron had had the affair with but he knew he could never tell Hermione that so he remained silent. But she seemed to understand his lack of answer as a single tear streaked down across her flawless skin. Draco's hand twitched involuntarily as he longed to brush that traitorous tear away.

Hermione swept it away with force and Draco placed his hand tentatively onto her small hand. He savoured the feeling of her soft skin beneath his hand briefly before gently squeezing her hand hoping to convey through it that he would be there for her.

Draco felt his insides squirm as she smiled genuinely at him, looking thoroughly relieved to be rid of the nagging thoughts about Kat. He removed his hand reluctantly and continued with his meal, glad to see that Hermione was doing the same.

The rest of the light meal passed with a comfortable silence. Once they had both finished, Draco requested the bill and, refusing to let Hermione pay her share, paid for it and left a rather generous tip. They exited the bistro together and paused on the cobbled street.

Draco turned to Hermione with a grin. "Are you going to be able to cope with the cobbles this time?" he asked, extending his arm to her.

Hermione laughed, showering Draco with warmth as her melodious laugh echoed around inside his head. "Yes," she giggled, linking her arm around his and gently grasped his forearm. "I feel a lot more stable now, thank you. Although, we never did have that coffee, did we?"

Draco led her along the street once more. "Well, I was thinking," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his silver eyes. "We could always head back to the cottage for coffee. I have this delicious Costa Rican blend imported in…"

Laughing lightly, Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course you do!" She paused and turned to look at him, biting her bottom lip gently in contemplation.

Draco was once again taken aback at how beautiful the young witch had become. "So," he asked tentatively. "Is that a yes to the invitation?"

After a moments hesitation, Hermione responded with a slow nod. "Sure, why not? Besides you owe me a tour."

Unable to keep the smile from his face, Draco rested the hand of his free arm lightly over her hand that was still rested on his forearm. "I sure do." He led her into a small alley beside a small Indian takeaway. With one final glance around to be sure no one was around, he Apparated them both away.

* * *

Hermione hesitated for a moment. Would it really be wise to enter Draco's cottage and be alone with him? And what would Ron think if he were to find out?

_My life, _she told herself sternly, _no longer revolves around that man!_

Slowly Hermione nodded. "Sure," she said, smiling coyly up at him, "Why not?" Besides you owe me a tour."

The grin that spread across Draco's pale face stole Hermione's breath away. Butterflies erupted into life in her stomach as he tenderly placed his large hand over hers, which was still gently grasping Draco's forearm.

"I sure do," he replied playfully as he led her into a small alley that smelled strongly of curry and spices. Pausing next to a large blue bin, Draco glanced around and tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. She felt him turn them both in a small circle and then experienced the familiar feeling of her body being compressed in Side-Along Apparition.

They reappeared a second later standing before Draco's pea green garden gate. He held tightly to Hermione, but after having something to eat, and finally speaking her nagging thoughts aloud, she was feeling a lot more stable and easily maintained her balance on landing.

Slowly Hermione withdrew her hand from Draco's arm and stepped through the gate that he held open for her. She allowed him to take the lead along the terracotta paved path.

Draco unlocked his front door and stood back to let Hermione enter. Stepping inside, she was immediately greeted by the sight of a small House-elf wearing a toga-style small cream sheet tied at the waist with a green and silver cord. The creature curtsied low as Draco stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

"Welcome home, sir. Master did not tell Tabby that he be bringing a guest home sir. Should Tabby make coffee, or would sir want Tabby to fetch a bottle from the cellar sir?" the House-elf asked in her squeaky voice.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Draco smile down at his House-elf, and speak to her with a kind voice. "Coffee would be lovely please, Tabby. The Costa Rican blend if you could?"

Tabby beamed at him and curtsied once more. "Of course Master, sir. Tabby is happy to." She turned to Hermione. "Would Miss like Tabby to take Miss's shawl?"

Removing her sheer gold shawl, Hermione handed it to the eager Tabby. "Thank you," she said kindly.

"You is most welcome Miss," said Tabby, positively beaming at her. "And Tabby would like it lots if Miss would please call Tabby 'Tabby'. And Tabby will be sure to look after this for you Miss." Tabby swept into one last curtsy before bobbing off through a door at the end of the hall.

Hermione turned, smiling broadly, towards Draco. "Well, isn't she lovely?"

He nodded. "Tabby is great. Without her I think I would be extremely disorganised." He extended an arm in the direction of the solid oak door adjacent to the bottom of the staircase. "And," he added, escorting Hermione to the door. "You'll be pleased to know that Tabby is paid five Galleons a month (which is the most she would accept), has one weekend a month off to do as she pleases, and I offered to buy her a proper uniform, but she like the toga."

Slightly amused by the look of pride displayed on Draco's handsome face, Hermione grinned. "That's great, Draco. But why did you feel a need to tell me?"

Sweeping open the oak door he ushered her into a spacious lounge that was decorated in warm neutral colours and furnished with a large black leather settee placed in front of a white marble fireplace that boasted a welcoming blaze, two matching armchairs sat at either end of the settee at angles. Surrounding the walls were numerous pieces of antique oak furniture, bookcases stacked with old leather-bound books, a sideboard upon which stood a large urn shaped glass vase in which stood three magnificent sunflowers. And a sturdy rectangular coffee table stood before the sofa, its surface clear apart from a small book sheathed in deep blue bindings, which Draco must be currently reading.

Draco took a seat on the couch and motioned for Hermione to do the same. "Well," he began, leaning back into the comfort of the leather. "I know all about the work you have done at the Ministry for House-elf rights."

Hermione was taken aback at the fact that he seemed to know about her work, and that it seemed to matter enough to him to reassure her of his own House-elf's well-being.

Tabby reappeared bearing a large silver platter, which she set down carefully onto the coffee table. "Would Master be liking anything else from Tabby sir? Or Miss?"

"No thank you, Tabby," said Hermione, suppressing a giggle at the look of glee on the creatures face as Hermione referred to her by name.

Draco leaned forward and picked up a large mug of steaming dark coffee and handed it to Hermione. "You may retire for the night Tabby; I did tell you not to wait up for me to return home."

"Thank you, sir," squeaked Tabby, curtsying once more. "But it is good that Tabby was awake sir, to make coffee for Master and his friend sir."

"Of course, Tabby," replied Draco his voice laced with humour. "And of course Hermione and I are very grateful. Good night."

"Good night Tabby," Hermione said to the delighted House-elf, as she bade them good night and disappeared with a _crack_.

Hermione watched as Draco shook his head in mirth at his eccentric little servant. He picked up his own coffee and took a small sip, settling back into the cushions of the couch.

Time passed easily between them; surprising Hermione somewhat that she could feel so comfortable with her 'former-enemy'. Conversation flowed freely as they talked about their careers, politics and general chit-chat. The coffee was delicious and she found herself becoming more and more comfortable in front of the roaring fire.

Draco, she noticed, had removed his shoes and untucked his shirt, also undoing the cuffs and rolling back the sleeves over his porcelain forearms. She found she loved the way he would throw his head back against the leather settee when he laughed, and so she tried to make him laugh frequently. It shocked her when she thought back to how he had behaved around her while they were at school together; it was like he was a different person now.

_In essence he _is _a different person_, she thought to herself at that point.

Following his lead in the comfort department, Hermione slid off her shoes and pulled her feet up next to her bottom on the settee. Pulling the clips from her hair, she allowed it to cascade in loose ringlets around her face and down her back. She shook her head a little. "That's better," she stated, placing her hair pins onto the coffee table beside her empty mug.

* * *

Draco was more than a little shocked at how well he and Hermione got along. They entered into numerous intellectual conversations, debated differences of opinions without arguing, and made each other laugh with ease. Draco enjoyed the sound of her laughter; it was such a warm and welcome sound to his ears. And the way her chocolate brown eyes shone brightly was indescribable.

Watching discreetly from the corner of his eyes, he saw her slide her dainty feet from her gold shoes and rest them on the couch next to her. Then she reached her hands behind her head and when she withdrew them her rich brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in a curtain of sensual curls.

As she shook her head gently and the curls bounced playfully around her pretty face, Draco realised that he was now openly staring at her.

"That's better," she sighed, as she laid her hair pins to rest next to her abandoned empty mug.

"Yes," he muttered before he could stop himself. "It is." He slid closer to her and tenderly brushed a stray curl back from her face, running his fingers over her silky smooth hair.

Hermione turned to him in surprise, but returned his smile shyly, a small blush creeping up her cheeks.

He pulled his hand back and rested his elbow on the back of the couch so that his torso was turned towards her. He tilted his head to one side and studied her for a moment. "You don't take compliments well," he observed.

Hermione lowered her head, flushing a deeper shade of red. Looking up at him through her eyelashes she shook her head.

"But why?" he asked her. "You're beautiful, Hermione." He stroked her hair again, grinning as her neck joined her face as she blushed harder.

"Th-thank you," she muttered quietly through her embarrassment, gently resting her hand on Draco's knee and smiling.

A wave of annoyance swept through Draco as she thanked him for his compliment; she seemed to really appreciate the fact that he had told her that, almost as though no-one ever bothered. That thought irked him greatly; the Weasel really was a moron if he couldn't appreciate what he had. _She deserves so much better,_ he thought.

Returning his attention to the beautiful witch beside him, he smiled at her, vaguely aware of her warm hand on his knee. He watched her face as she appeared to be stealing herself for something.

She lowered her feet to the floor once more and turned her body towards him. Leaving her hand on his knee, she lifted her other hand tentatively, then after a slight hesitation she placed her soft hand against his pale cheek and pulled his face towards hers.

Draco was lost in the sensation of Hermione's soft lips against his. He reacted immediately; enmeshing the hand that had been stroking her hair into her curls at the nape of her neck, and resting his other hand on her slim waist.

He felt her hot velvet tongue run over his bottom lip and he parted his lips for her. Hungrily she pushed her tongue into his mouth and explored it. He couldn't believe that she was being so forward, but he certainly wasn't complaining!

Tilting her head back slowly, Draco deepened their kiss, battling her tongue with his own for dominance. Hermione gently nipped his lower lip with her teeth, setting his senses on fire. He growled deep in his throat and began trailing kisses along her jaw line and down her slender neck, breathing in her sweet scent.

Hermione ran her hand from cupping his cheek into his platinum hair. And Draco was also aware that her other hand had slid from his knee to his thigh although he was unsure when that had happened.

Draco's mind was beginning to cloud with lust and he knew that he was about to lose control of his desire for her. Certainly the stirrings in his loins were increasing rapidly.

He placed one last kiss on her plump full lips, then reluctantly pulled back. He looked down into Hermione's flushed face, as she panted and bore a confused expression.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I think we should stop."

Draco felt awful when Hermione looked at him with her chocolate pools full of hurt. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly. "Don't you want me either?"

He felt his stomach lurch at her last question and decided to be honest with her; telling people his innermost feelings was not an easy task for Draco Malfoy and he rarely did it, but for some reason he felt an undeniable urge to make an exception for such an exceptional witch.

"Of course I do," he told her, his voice still husky with lust. "More than I can say."

Draco was glad to see relief flood her features. But with a small frown she asked, "Then why?"

"Because…" Draco began, unsure how to put his feelings into words. "Because I don't want us to rush anything. I'd hate for you to regret it in the morning."

Hermione smiled at him, sending his heart rate soaring. "You're right," she said at last. "Thank you."

Draco smiled at her warmly. Then, knowing he needed a breather, as he didn't know whether he would be able to keep to his own words if he stayed in close proximately to Hermione at that moment, he stood up and collected up their empty coffee mugs and the silver platter and carried them out of the room.

Draco entered the kitchen and placed the tray on top of the counter. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the smooth cool surface of a wall cabinet. _Damn, Hermione,_ he thought, taking several deep breaths to slow his racing pulse.

Once he felt back in control of his urges, Draco returned to his lounge. There on his black leather settee sat Hermione, her elbow resting on the arm and her head propped up on her hand. As he made his way to the front of the couch, he noticed that her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and even.

Grinning slightly, Draco leaned over her and softly called her name. After getting no response, he tried to gently shake her awake. Again there was no response.

Sighing, and rolling his eyes with a smile, Draco scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the room.

**A/N:** Massive thank you's again to all the lovely people who have reviewed or added this to their Favourite/Alert lists, seriously I never knew I could get soooo excited over receiving email notifications lol!!

Please review!!


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